Not long ago, while looking at a magic mirror,
I unexpectedly looked into the almond-shaped eyes of an Egyptian priestess.
For me that was the beginning of a quest into a former life I lived
in ancient Egypt. Once again I came across a part of my Self, answering
to the prosaic name of Imertnebes, about whom I mentioned in the 38th
episode of the Nada Chronicles.

I wondered if there would be others with
such memories. There were. So much material appeared in response to
my request, that one newsletter will not be enough to contain it all.
Therefore, I decided that in addition to these papers entitled ‘Ancient
Egypt,’ I will publish a sequence next month under the more common heading
‘Reincarnation.’

While speaking about reincarnation, sceptics
are commonly wont to say that everybody believing such crap would have
been either Joan of Arc, Napoleon or Cleopatra. Of course in some instances
that is the case, and looking at certain psychiatric illnesses it is
not clear whether they can be spoken of as past life memories. Because
such disorders are curable, I will not dwell on this subject any further.

What is clear, though, is that the reader’s
stories presented here are not about celebrities of the past. Here are
tales about common people: a citizen, a foreman, a slave, a priestess.
Around the year 11.500 B.C. the alleged first era of the Egyptians appears.
Survivors of Atlantis blend together with the locals and it is archeologically
seen, from one day to the next, that a rather primitive culture is transformed
into a technological one: the so-called first hawk civilization, being
a colony of Altea with its leader, Tarahkarahk (see my newsletter of
July 2004: Traces
on this Earth).
Construction of the pyramids begins right away. In the year 6257 B.C.
under the leadership of Chefren (Choefoe), who was an incarnation of
the hawk and is always portrayed as such, the great pyramid was enlarged
and given a beautiful gold coating which could be seen from far away.
It was a splendid marking point for all who found themselves on earth,
as well as in the stratosphere. The pyramid complex at Gizeh is a remarkably
pure interpretation of the star sign Orion as it appeared during the
time of its construction. The incarnates of the leaders were humanoids,
with bird-like appearances stemming from that part of the galaxy.
Apart from ‘high’ politics, it is of course also important to ask oneself
how common people lived during that period. The stories of this newsletter
are witness of this.
Running Fox wishes you many special remembrances from reading these
stories.

Imertnebes, the hemet-Netjer or servant
of god, slowly shove aside the beautiful embroidered veil and stepped
thoughtful over the threshold of the sanctuary. Then she knelt down
in one fluent move before her goddess Renenwetet. Whilst the goddess
with her serpent head looked down in compassion to the young woman who
looked like a big white bird in her pure linen almost transparent robe,
she muttered her morning prayer:

“O Renenwetet feared by the gods, o idolatress
of the woven garb. How happy those are who see you, decorated with your
headdress from Re’s forehead. Your king’s apron on you is Hathor and
your feather is a falcon’s feather and with that you ascend to heaven
amongst your brethren, the gods […]”.

After the prayer Imertnebes (Nibi to close
friends) hastened to put the sacrifices ready which would be offered
to the goddess within a short while when it still was cool. A moment
later the rattler arrived as did the chanters, who would accompany her
behind the veil during the offering ceremony.

About fifteen years ago
I underwent regression therapy. In one of the shown lives I proved to
have been a slave in Egypt. A short report.

I am an Israelite boy of about thirteen
and find myself in a small vineyard eating grapes with a short knife
in my hand. I have light curly black hair and the garment I wear is
sagging, because of my height, just under my knees. I see to my amazement
(where do they come from) strange soldiers leaning nonchalantly against
a palm tree. Their captain makes a small gesture, beckoning me to come
along. I do not flee, I do not cry out; inside I know that the payment
has come.

Further images.
A large group of Jews, of whom I am one of the youngest, walks along
the sea in the direction of Egypt. Before me three adult people with
headdress and dark blue robes are walking. For days I have looked at
their backs. In the group of prisoners religious songs are sung in order
to cheer up each other. With us also a herd of sheep is driven along.

I am totally alone. Nobody cares about me.
Nobody talks to me. I feel abandoned. The nights are miserable. The
coldness of the nightly desert falls upon us. We sleep in the midst
of the sheep. They are our woolen blanket. I do not think of escape.
Around our group, wrapped in their blankets, are the guardians. Heaven
is magnificent because of the stars, but cold and hunger dominate.

Further images.
Clad in a loincloth only, I am chopping up the ground. I had to do this
for thirteen years in row. I am working in a colossal square pit. A
building is to be erected here. Which one? I did and do not know. When
I died the pit wasn’t finished yet. On top of the rim I can see Egyptians
will papyrus scrolls talking and pointing. But all I have to do is chopping,
always chopping. Others are scooping up the dirt and again others carry
it away in braided baskets. It is extremely hot. I wipe the sweat from
my forehead. What a miserable life! When will it end? The guard has
a whip but I have never seen him using it. At least not on my body.
Still I am able to sketch the chopstick; it was triangular. I have seen
it from close by for thirteen years.

At night we sleep in a tent. Before the
tent a small fire is smouldering. We need to recover in the coolness
of the evening. We are exhausted. My back is hurting. We get rice and
sorgo to eat. We slaves fell asleep like a log to be awakened the next
morning with a blow of the whip on the canvas of the tent. We then eat
the leftovers – if any – of last night and then, jogging, into the pit.

When my ‘lesson’ was fulfilled, at the age
of 26, I just dropped dead on the spot in the pit, the chopstick still
in my hands. The keeper swept his whip but understood it was hopeless.
Surely I was not the first one.

I know, because of the regressions, why
I had to be a slave. But that is another story.

As for memories about Egypt,
some years ago I had the following brief, but very sweet experience.
It was in our home in Brussels, I was around 50 years of age, feeling
like a matron sometimes. Then a little package arrived. TIME LIFE had
just printed a volume about Life in ancient Egypt.

As a gift they included a copy of an old
Egyptian coin. The moment I had that coin on my palm, I felt transported
into the streets of Egypt, maybe many centuries ago. I was a girl, a
servant in a good family and I was going to market to buy food. I felt
the linen cloth around my body and the coin in my right hand, the sandals
on my feet and the sun over the roofs. I had a linen veil on my head
but my face was not covered. I was young and strong and content with
my life.

I am very grateful for that memory, feeling
connected to my Egyptian sister, another part of myself in that time.

Foreman in Egypt

By
Rama Hartgers ~ translation: Myriah Krista Walker

Last year my youngest sister asked me to
go with her on a trip through Egypt.
I did not want to go because of my fear of flying, however she persuaded
me. I looked into my bookcase and discovered at least 10 books about
Egypt that I had eagerly read roughly 15 years ago, but had since forgotten
all about.

The first part of the journey was a 5 day
cruise on the river Nile. In the morning after arriving, just after
breakfast, my intestines began to protest, and from that moment on I
experienced diarrhea without feeling ill, yet only when a toilet was
within sight. During the 5 hour travels in a bus my bowels kept quiet.
But once back on the boat or in a hotel I was running for the bathroom
every hour.

During the journey I continuously felt sorrow
and powerlessness, particularly about the many working donkeys and horses.
Everywhere I saw animals labouring in the hot sun, heavily loaded and
with visible wounds. It just didn’t stop.

At the pyramids of Gizeh a huge overwhelming
sadness fell over me. The only thing I could do there was weep. My thoughts
were of all the human and animal suffering that had been waged in order
to give to this one important person everything on his journey to the
afterlife.

The last few days we stayed in a hotel near
the Red Sea, and during the last morning at the beach I heard a voice:
“When thou art cleansed of sin and guilt committed here, thus thou receiveth
back the rights that were taken away from you.”

Once home the diarrhea continued, but the
hospital laboratory couldn’t find anything to cause it. After two weeks
of homeopathic support, my bowels worked properly at last.

After that I began to have lucid dreams
about myself in different lives as chief/foreman at stone quarries and
at the building of pyramids. I refused to give the workers and beasts
of burden enough shade, rest, water and nutrition. I misused the little
bit of extra power I possessed for my own standing (my workers produced
more in less time), but their suffering was a direct result.

My topic for that summer had thus been how
to handle power in this life and where my ego stands in the way.

I have written this story because I hear/read
about many experiences concerning lives as Egyptian princesses and priests.
My experiences were quite different.

In the Beginning, floodwaters engulfed the
world. Nothing stirred amid that dark and dismal expanse. Then, miraculously,
a lotus blossom surfaced and opened its petals to give birth to the
Sun. Rising from the blossom like a golden bird, the Sun subdued the
waters and coaxed life from the emerging land. Ever after, when the
Nile receded and the growing season began, its people gave thanks to
the Sun god Re and to his Earthly counterpart, the Pharaoh, who claimed
divine powers and kept the country fruitful.

Hymn To The Aten

Splendid you rise in heaven's light land,
O living Aten, creator of life! When you have dawned in eastern light
land, you fill every land with your beauty. You are beauteous, great,
radiant, high over every land: Your rays embrace the lands To the limits
of all that you made... All eyes are on your beauty until you set. All
labour ceases when you rest in the west: When you rise you stir everyone
for the King, Every leg is on the move since you founded the earth.
You rouse them for your son who came from your body, The King who lives
by Maat, the Lord of the Two Lands.

I wish I were your
mirror

I wish I were your mirror, so that you always
looked at me. I wish I were your garment so that you would always wear
me. I wish I were the water that washes your body. I wish I were the
unguent, O woman, that I could anoint you. And the band around your
breasts, and the beads around your neck. I wish I were your sandal that
embraces your foot and that you would step on me!